


First Bloom

by FreeTheSoul



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Bonding, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 23:31:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14862386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeTheSoul/pseuds/FreeTheSoul
Summary: If Lyria plans on getting to know him, then she has her work cut out for her.





	First Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime close after the end of WMTSB2.

“You, Singularity, want _me_ to babysit the girl in blue. Am I understanding correctly?”

Sandalphon crosses his arms and huffs, leaning back in his chair as he stares flatly at Djeeta. She grimaces at his reaction, lips pressing into a thin, frustrated line. Lyria, half-hidden behind her, grips her dress a little tighter.

“Still haven’t learned our names?” She mutters, and he gives her his most unimpressed look until she realizes that yes, he heard her, and no, there was no way to come back from bad-mouthing one of the most powerful beings in the skies.

“L-Look,” she continues, “it’s not like that. We’ll be in town for a while, and getting out is good for you.”

“Good for me?” He repeats, uncrossing his legs and letting his heel hit loudly against the wood. Djeeta doesn’t find it very intimidating, but Lyria shrinks back. “We may have a temporary agreement, but I don’t recall making you into my therapist.”

Djeeta sighs, and Sandalphon frowns as he continues. “I don’t have time for trivial matters like this.”

“Well,” she pressures, “what _do_ you have time for? You seem to have an awful lot of it on your hands.”

He's starting to feel like he didn’t really have a choice in the matter, but fights it anyways. “I’m busy. It’s none of your business.”

“Busy with _what?_ Sitting in the airship?” She shoots back, shrugging off his subsequent glare and taking his lack of an answer as her win.

Lyria, who had been silent through the whole exchange, takes the ensuing silence as an opportunity to step in and relieve the tension. Both Sandalphon and Djeeta turn to her as she lets go of Djeeta’s dress and moves forward, fingers fidgeting in front of her without anything to hold in them.

“I… um… Sandalphon, I know you don’t really want to, but I would love to spend a little time getting to know you…” Her gaze, downcast, tilts up to stare at him. “Don’t you think it would be fun?”

Sandalphon opens his mouth to snap a response, but Djeeta’s knowing glare forces him to reconsider. He presses a sigh. “Fine. Don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

“Oh!” Lyria gasps. “Thank you! I can’t wait.”

Her expression blooms into a hopeful smile, and she clasps her hands together in her excitement. Djeeta, fully aware that this was the extent of Sandalphon’s kindness, places a firm hand on Lyria’s shoulder and wheels her away before she can be too overwhelming and ruin his mood entirely.

He stares at the empty doorway after Lyria leaves, distracted and sent off by Djeeta on a wild goose chase for pastries in the kitchen.

“Is she daft? I said I wouldn’t enjoy myself, and she still thanked me.” He glances at Djeeta, eyebrow arched.

“Let her be excited,” Djeeta replies gently. “She isn’t lying when she says she wants to be friends. It really would do you some good to take her up on the offer.”

He opens his mouth, but she raises a hand.

“No, I’m not telling you what to do. I didn’t get this far thinking I could just lecture people strong enough to kill me.” She smiles, and he concedes to this. “Just a suggestion. Lyria just wants to help.”

Sandalphon bristles.

“Out of pity? Very funny.” His tone is dry. “I want none of it.”

“Kindness,” Djeeta offers, after examining his face, “it’s only kindness.”

 

Sandalphon raises his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun as he steps off the airship. The sensation of the warm wind blowing through his hair is fleeting, his hood raised the next moment with a practiced motion.

He feels something small tug his pinky finger, and glares down as he yanks his hand away. He remains tense as he spots the blue hair beneath him, but drops his hand back down after a contemplative moment.

Lyria’s wide eyes watch his hand, then meet his gaze. “Sandalphon, why do you always pull your hood up when we go outside? Isn’t it too warm out?”

“Discomfort is a small price to pay to hide my face, and the heat is negligible to a primal. You may be willing to pardon my sins, but the rest of the skydom isn’t quite the same,” he replies briskly, then grimaces. “Besides, Lucilius’s followers don’t need an invitation to come find me.”

She nods, seemingly satisfied by this answer. Sandalphon eyes her carefully.

“You ask odd questions, girl. Who are you to care about my comfort?”

She huffs and places her hands on her hips. “We’re friends! That’s what friends do…”

“We aren’t friends.” His tone is cutting. “Come, now. Let’s get this over with.”

It takes Lyria a minute to realize that he’s already started walking away from her, and she trots to catch up before she loses him to the bustling crowds.

 

A little while later, Lyria pipes up from beside him as they walk. “Sandalphon, can I hold your hand?”

“How absurd.” He crosses his arms reflexively. “No, you may not. What gave you the impression that you should?”

“W-well…” Her excitement from earlier is gone, now, in the face of his unwelcoming tone. “Whenever Djeeta takes me to a new place, she holds my hand so I don’t get lost…”

“And I am not the Singularity,” he replies cooly. “It would do you well to remember that.”

Lyria starts floundering, hands waving in front of her face. “I know that! But… I still thought that maybe we could be friends, like me and Djeeta are friends…”

He doesn’t bother to reply, and after a few steps she changes the topic.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

He makes some kind of motion of dismissal in the air with his hand. “No.”

“Well…” Her hands fidget together. “I kinda wanted to get a present for Djeeta, so… um… do you have any suggestions?”

Sandalphon shakes his head.

“O-Okay, then…” She continues nervously, looking around herself for some ideas. They’re approaching the market and, frankly, the colors and noise are a bit overwhelming. “How about some… flowers?”

He shrugs. “Sure, whatever you want.”

 

It takes ages for them to find a flower stall that meets Sandalphon’s standards, and when he finally agrees to somewhere, Lyria is starting to suspect that he was just being difficult and stopped caring about putting energy into saying no. Regardless, she pushes the feeling away and trots up excitedly to the front counter.

“Hello!”

Sandalphon follows behind her slowly as the owner of the stall - an old, short man, but with an energetic glint to his eyes - turns around to greet her. He shows her a bell on the counter to ring if she has any questions or decided on what to buy, then disappears somewhere behind the rows of flowers to let her take her time.

Her coin bag is tied around her wrist with a leather string, because Djeeta and Katalina discovered a long time ago that she had a habit of putting things down and forgetting about them within a matter of seconds. She’s already untying the loop and emptying the coins onto the counter to figure out how much she has to spend by the time the owner is done talking to her, and she’s clearly putting most of her energy into focusing on counting.

Sandalphon has the decency to wait for the shopkeep to be out of earshot before he takes one look around the displays and expresses his disdain.

“How disgraceful. The vibrancy of these flowers is paltry compared to what I would expect.”

Lyria looks up from counting and frowns, hands fidgeting with her hair. “I don’t really know what that means, but… do you want to go somewhere else…?”

Sandalphon sighs. “No, I don’t care. Just find something and don’t keep wasting my time. It’s hot out here, and I’d rather get back to sitting in the ship.”

She almost agrees to this, then pauses a moment before she exclaims: “But I thought you said primals don’t get too warm!”

He opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it again when he realizes he doesn’t have an excuse for himself. He settles on a glare, and only then is it that he notices that she seems genuinely curious - he supposes she didn’t even notice he just lied to her, but it irritates him nonetheless.

He stays put as Lyria wanders off between the rows of flowers, his gaze wandering across the various types. He recognizes a handful of them by name, and the rest fill him with a vague, nostalgic familiarity. Sense memory brings back the faint scent of coffee, and he loses himself to it as he reminisces.

Lyria’s voice shatters the illusion, but he’s not quite sure how long he spent daydreaming.

“Umm…”

He shakes away the last of his memories as he turns to her. “What?”

She’s pointing to the batch of lilies, and he grimaces when he follows her finger. Noticing his reaction, she drops her finger and droops.

“Oh, sorry… Do you not like those ones, Sandalphon? You can pick for me if you want…”

“No,” and he realizes his quick response had backed him in a corner of explaining himself, “they used to be one of… my favorites.”

It was a bald-faced lie, but it was better than talking to Lyria about _him._ On the other hand, he reasons, he had always come to appreciate what Lucifer loved - perhaps it wasn’t too far from the truth after all.

She’s looking at him like she expects more of an explanation, but he ignores it. He doesn’t want to talk at all now that he’s started thinking about Lucifer, so he wanders off down the road while she pays for the lilies. Eventually, she catches back up, gripping the bouquet tight against her chest.

Lyria’s staring into the flowers, stumbling over pebbles every so often. “These are really pretty, don’t you think?”

He can tell she’s searching for a conversation, but he doesn’t bother to reply. She tries again:

“Hey, Sandalphon?”

Lyria’s voice is small, behind him, and he stops to turn to her before he resumes walking. She doesn’t continue, and it takes him a moment to clue into why.

“...Yes? I’m listening.”

“I just wanted to say that… um… I don’t actually know very much about flowers…”

He resists the urge to sigh too loudly. “That much is obvious. What’s your point?”

Lyria fidgets beside him, and he hopes she isn’t ruining the petals. “W-Well… I chose these ones because I noticed you were looking at them a lot, so I figured you must like them, and if you like them then I thought they must be a... good kind.”

Sandalphon’s tone is flippant. “I see.”

She continues, talking faster: “Since you don’t tell me very much about what you like, o-other than coffee, I thought maybe it would be a way to get to know you… That way we could be friends…”

Sandalphon slams his heel into the brick and stops, in the middle of the street, but no one other than Lyria seems to care about the roadblock. She squeaks as she walks into his back, backing up a few steps as he whirls around.

“Sandalphon? What happened…?” Her voice trails off as she realizes that something is wrong.

Sandalphon grits his teeth and exhales, staring her down for a silent moment as he flexes his hands at his sides.

“We. Are. Not. _Friends_.” He enunciates each word pointedly, anger seething below the ice in his tone. Sandalphon takes a threatening step towards Lyria and bends over her as he continues to speak, watching as she almost stumbles in her attempts to back up. “I suggest you remember that I do not want to be your friend, nor do I have the time to play silly games of _pretend_ with you.”

The confusion in her eyes has long since turned to fear, and she almost seems to shake as she holds the bouquet to her chest.

“Stop wasting your time, girl. How difficult is it for you to understand that I’m _not interested?”_ He’s seething, yelling, and his next words come out before he can think about what he’s saying. “I’ve spent enough of my life taking people’s pity-- I don’t need it from some dense girl! Lucifer was enough!”

He falters, too choked up on his own breath to keep going, and it gives Lyria the opportunity to cut in angrily.

“Why are you so mean!”

He recoils at her outburst, and doesn’t have anything biting prepared to reply with. She continues, voice rising hysterically:

“Why can’t you just be my friend! I don’t-- I don’t get it!”

Her hands are balled in tight fists at her sides, and she’s stamping one of her feet to punctuate her yelling. Sandalphon doesn’t know what to do but stand there, stunned, eyes widening slowly at her.

“It’s not about pity! People don’t want to become friends out of pity! I _care_ about you! And… And…!” The dams burst, and the tears that Lyria had been holding back suddenly cascade over her cheeks. “I have a name, you know! I’m not just _girl!”_

Lyria practically throws the flowers at him, and they end up a mess on the ground. He opens his mouth to snap at her, but he catches a glimpse at the fire in her eyes and finds that he doesn’t know what to say. He can’t remember the last time he saw her so frustrated - perhaps Canaan, and that brings back a string of memories he wishes he could forget.

She spins around and runs away, breaking through the crowds until Sandalphon can’t see her anymore. He feels useless, standing there, but he doesn’t know what else to do other than stare after her back.

“Goodness me.”

A stranger’s voice cuts through Sandalphon’s thoughts, and he whips his head to the side to glare at the woman who spoke. She’s young, with unremarkable features, and he realizes that she must have watched most of what just happened. She keeps talking:

“Don’t you think you were being a little rude to your little sister?” The lady arches an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you going to go after her? The city might’ve cleaned things up, but it could be trouble if she ends up in the sidestreets.

“Mind your own business,” he snaps. “She can take care of herself.”

Sandalphon glares at the woman as she backs off and leaves him alone, and then looks back in the direction Lyria had run off in. Sometimes, he gets the impression she’d bite off a man’s fingers if one tried to touch her, but he knows her better than that - she’s fragile and, loathe as he is to admit it, he’s worried.

Worried, because if Katalina finds out he left Lyria alone, she’s going to make him wish he’d never left the Astral’s labs.

He starts walking.

 

Really, he’s almost running once he realizes he can’t find her on the main street anymore. He’s done a loop through the area, because Lyria is just as unfamiliar to the region as he is and he assumes she wouldn’t wander far. He hopes, at least.

His walk is brisk as he glances down each alley he passes, muttering a bitter prayer that he’ll see a strand of blue, and then--

“Lyria!”

His voice is a shout, angry and relieved all at once. She’s sitting on the ground near a pile of garbage, her head - which had been down in her lap - lifting suddenly at her name.

“Sandalphon…?” Her voice is hoarse, and she makes an exaggerated sniffle as she wipes at her eyes. “Oh, that really is you…”

“Of course it is,” he snaps, then softens his tone when he sees her shrink into herself. “I didn’t walk all through the city twice over just to lose you, now did I? That would be utter nonsense.”

Her body shakes, and he can’t tell whether it’s from the breeze or her sobs. “I’m sorry,” she offers weakly, “I shouldn’t have gotten mad.”

Sandalphon doesn’t reply, but crouches down beside her in an attempt at comfort.

“You were being a bully, though…” She mumbles pointedly as she puts her head back in her arms. When she continues talking, her voice is muffled. “Oh, you said my name earlier...”

He blinks. “...Yes, I suppose I did. Is it really a big deal?”

She shrugs, but then nods after a pause.

Heavy silence falls as neither knows what to say, and Sandalphon stands back up. He crosses his arms, waits, then uncrosses them once more as agitation prickles beneath his skin.

“Sandalphon?”

Lyria is quiet, and for once he understands the underlying question. It doesn’t make his reply any less awkward, the nonchalance to his voice suddenly seeming forced.

“I’m still here.”

She smiles to herself, hidden in her arms, then sniffles and rubs a hand against her eyes again. Her voice still sounds watery. “I ruined the flowers, didn’t I?”

Sandalphon nods, slowly, not quite understanding her train of thought. “Yes, you did. But...” He bites his lip, then continues. “It’s a trivial matter. We can simply buy a replacement with my money.”

Lyria’s attention snaps to him at the offer, her red-rimmed eyes staring hopefully. “Are you sure? I-It’s not a big deal…”

“Nonsense.” Sandalphon is nothing if not persistent, when he wants to be. “It wouldn’t do to return to the ship with nothing to show for it.”

She nods, slowly, wide eyes relaxing as she listens to his explanation. She seems to understand, in some part, that this is his way of apologizing.

Sandalphon reaches out a hand, after a moment’s hesitation. “Come, get up. It’s beginning to cloud over - we don’t have all day.”

Resisting the urge to grimace when she grabs hold of his hand, Sandalphon grins and bears it as she slowly stands up and dusts herself off. After he makes sure she’s tidied up as best she can, ignoring her still-puffy eyes, he leads her out of the alleyway.

 

It’s starting to drizzle by the time they make it back to to the tucked-away flower stall, and the owner is at the front rearranging the bouquets. He looks up as they approach.

“Welcome to-- Oh!” The man’s eyes light up in recognition. “It’s you two again. What happened to the flowers from earlier?”

Lyria opens her mouth eagerly to reply, but Sandalphon cuts her off with a wave of his hand.

“It’s none of your business. What matters is that we’re here to buy more, hm?” He shoots an almost-glare at the man, who seems remarkably unaffected by both it and his tone.

The owner raises an eyebrow, mostly directing his look at Lyria. “Alright. Well, take your time picking something else out.”

After returning to the back of the shop to give the two of them more privacy, Lyria eventually stops waving at his back and turns to glare at Sandalphon from under her eyelashes.

“That was rude, Sandalphon! You can’t be mean to every stranger you meet.” She hops angrily, which reduces the impact of her scolding.

“I can,” he sighs, distracted as he walks through the flower stall. His wandering almost seems directionless, but he stops in front of a specific selection. “This is a gift for the Singularity, correct? I suggest you choose these.”

Lyria’s attention is immediately captured by the bundles of white flowers he’s pointing at, and she totters over to peer at them, then at him. “Oh! What are those?”

“These are jasmine. They mean…” He pauses to think, then smiles, still a smirk but a closer attempt at kindness than anything else he’s shown that day. “Good luck and love. A fitting gift, no?”

She listens with rapt attention to his explanation, then nods excitedly. “They sound perfect!” She almost makes a move to grab at his hands in her excitement, but stops herself in time as she adds: “I didn’t know you knew so much about flowers, Sandalphon.”

He narrows his eyes, but his irritation is tired. “I have hobbies other than drinking coffee, you know.”

“I know! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that!” She waves her hands in front of her face frantically, a habit he is beginning to notice. “I just… I don’t know, I didn’t really expect it. Where’d you learn flower language?”

Sandalphon stops. He knows that Lyria would likely accept if he shrugged off the question, but he remembers Djeeta’s advice from earlier that morning and forces down his pride.

“We had a garden,” he starts, then swallows thickly. Lyria has turned her full attention to him, eyes saucer-wide. “It housed flowers from all over the skies, and he… The angels made sure it was kept well-tended.”

He breathes, slowly, working through the pressure in his chest. Lyria seems to understand, and lets him collect himself before he can continue.

“One of the tetra-element primarchs,” he is vague, now, but he knows it could only have been Gabriel, “had a habit of collecting books from mortals. As I had little else to do in my free time, I found the books on flowers and read them. That’s all.”

Lyria gives him a trailing look like she was expecting more, but doesn’t push. He swallows again and looks at the assortments of flowers to his side, then back to her.

“That’s all,” he repeats, quiet, and ignores the needling feeling that he’s talking more to himself than her.

She nods and gives him the respect of saying nothing, pretending to be distracted by the flowers again. For a moment, it looks like she’s about to call out to the man in the back, but then quickly turns back to Sandalphon as she seems to remember something important.

“Oh! You told me something that you haven’t told anyone else, right?” She doesn’t wait for him to confirm this, apparently already set in her suspicions. “That’s what friends do!”

Sandalphon grimaces at the word, but bites back any scathing comments. His displeasure shows on his face, but she opts to ignore it as her train of thought continues to something entirely else.

“Before we pay, did you want to buy anything? I think we might have some money left over…” She’s digging back through her satchel again, bringing out the remaining coins on her palm and counting them meticulously.

“For who?” He asks, an eyebrow raised. “I hope you’re not expecting me to get you something, because I won’t.”

“That’s okay,” she smiles gently, “I didn’t mean that. Maybe this is a little personal, but… Sometimes people like to leave gifts when they pray, and since flowers mean so much to you, I’m sure they mean a lot to him too.”

Sandalphon feels his chest tighten, and looks away, blinking away the heat in his eyes. Lyria watches him, both of them quiet, then turns back to ring the bell on the counter.

The owner makes his way back out from the back at the sound, taking his time as he approaches the front counter. “Did you two decide what you’d like?”

“Um! Yes!” Her hands are balled tight at her sides, and she’s talking a little too quick. Sandalphon wonders absently if she’s nervous. “I want a bouquet of those ones… the um…”

“Jasmine,” Sandalphon supplies.

She nods. “Yeah, that! Please!”

The old man smiles at their back-and-forth. “My pleasure, dear. Do either of you want anything else?”

Lyria looks up at Sandalphon. “Do you?”

For a moment, he doesn’t reply.

“A rose, please. Red.” His voice is distant, and he is looking at neither of them. “Just one is fine.”

The man nods. “A bold choice, young man, but a good one. Just let me go wrap them.”

It takes until Lyria tugs on his hand to get him to re-focus and remember to pull out the coins from his pocket, and he hands over the whole bag to let her slowly count her way through them. Eventually, she seems fairly certain that she’s gotten the right amount, and stacks them into neat piles for the man to collect once he comes back with the rose and the bundle of jasmine.

Lyria takes both. “Thank you very much!”

Tugging on Sandalphon’s hand to get his attention again, she hands his purchase to him and starts stage-whispering. “Sandalphon, this is the part where you’re supposed to say something nice.”

He makes a face. “No.”

The owner, seemingly adjusted to his attitude by now, laughs a little. “Well, I hope you two enjoy. Come back if you ever need more, won’t you?”

After spending a little too long promising that she’ll come back soon, Lyria says goodbye and thank you for the upteenth time before running off to re-join Sandalphon. He wandered off somewhere around the second minute of waiting for her to stop babbling, stopping a few meters away under an overhang. He’s busy staring out at the misty rain, and barely looks at Lyria when she finally approaches him.

Lyria’s hair has already fluffed itself out from the humidity in the time they spent picking flowers, and Sandalphon can’t imagine she’ll look like anything more than a wet dog if they stay out in the weather any longer than they have to.

“We should return to the ship before the rain gets worse,” he murmurs. Lyria nods in agreement, and the two of them set back out towards the main streets.

The pair is quiet as they weave through the thinning crowds of people, content to listen to the general hustle of other conversations that they pass. Lyria watches Sandalphon’s hands from the corner of her eye, delicate as he holds the single rose, and eventually he’s had enough of her not-so-inconspicuous glances.

“What do you want? Stop staring at me and ask, if you have a question.” There’s no bite to his tone, despite his words.

Lyria makes a small ‘o’ with her mouth, only now realizing that she hadn’t been as discreet as she’d thought. “Well… since you know so much about flowers, I was wondering if you could tell me what roses mean?”

He sighs through his nose. “I am not a walking encyclopedia. I only remember a few.”

“But!” She presses her lips together and puffs out her cheeks, trying her best to seem stubborn but instead ending up looking more like some kind of small animal. “If you chose it, it must be special, right?”

Sandalphon realizes the error of his excuse when she guesses correctly, and his reply is exhausted more than anything else. “I suppose. Not that I have any reason to tell you why, now do I?”

Lyria starts blubbering. “But I thought we were friends now!”

She continues protesting as they walk, her rambling eventually progressing to a stubborn grumble and then to nothing at all when she notices that he stopped listening to her.

Absently, Sandalphon rubs one of the rose’s velvety petals between his fingers. He’s smiling, faintly and to himself, and Lyria doesn’t push for an answer when she realizes he’s caught up in his memories. When he does respond, it almost startles her.

“About being friends,” he starts, then lets his words hang while he decides what he wants to say. “We’ll see, Lyria.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something about the early progression of their friendship, from not long after Sandalphon first joins the crew.
> 
> He’s a pain in the ass.
> 
>  
> 
> I find it rude when strangers comment criticism (constructive or not) unprompted, so please don't! I write fics for my own entertainment.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
